Chapter Ten
The door slammed upstairs and Beatrice started. Her mother was up and apparently angry about something already. “So early in the day?” She groaned under her breath and sighed.
It would only be a matter of time before she came into the drawing room to talk to Beatrice. Every day since Beatrice had returned to London had gone the same way. Her mother would go out or receive guests and then she would find Beatrice and complain.
It made Beatrice sad, not only because her mother was being awful but also because they never spent any pleasant time together. When she had been younger, Beatrice would sit with her mother while they embroidered or her mother would read to her. They would talk often about the new fashions and about father's business in London and when he would return.
Many evenings had been spent in the drawing room, her mother playing the pianoforte and Beatrice singing along. Those were among Beatrice’s favorite memories. But when they returned to London last Season, the pianoforte was gone from the drawing room. When Beatrice had asked where it had gone her mother said she had grown tired of playing it and had it removed from the house. Beatrice had wanted to ask more questions, but her mother had clearly not wanted to talk about it because she gathered her needlework and left the room.
Knowing her mother was already upset and on her way to the drawing room, Beatrice decided that she would give her mother some extra time. Her first thought was to escape to her room but there was little chance she would be able to make her way there without meeting up with her mother on the stairs. Her only chance of avoiding her mother would be to slip into the library until her mother had gone into the drawing room. With that thought still in her mind, Beatrice closed up her book and moved quickly across the hall it into the library. She stood in front of the bookcase near the door listening for her mother to pass into the drawing room.
When the door opened a moment later Beatrice barely was able to compose herself.
"Beatrice, what are you doing in here?" Mother asked a frown creasing her brow.
Holding up her book Beatrice said, "I was choosing a new book."
"Nonsense, you only started that book yesterday."
“Yes, but I..." Beatrice started.
"I care not for your excuses. I know you are trying to avoid me. I had no idea I had raised such a selfish daughter." Her mother stepped out to the hallway waving her hand for her to follow. "I realize I should not be surprised, you were bound to pick up some of your father's more unsatisfactory traits."
"Mother, I do apologize I only—"
“Beatrice, there are more important matters at hand," her mother interrupted. She pointed at the settee. "Please sit down."
Beatrice did as her mother asked, but furrowed her brow at the unexpected request. "Is something amiss?"
"It has become abundantly clear to me that you will never find a husband without my assistance."
Beatrice felt as though she had been slapped. "I have been doing everything you have asked of me."
"And yet you still have not gained the favor of any suitable gentlemen." Mother stopped pacing to look at her. "You are too quiet and when I pointed that out to you, you proceeded to bellow like a goose!"
In a moment of anger, Beatrice retorted, "I do not bellow like a goose."
"It is of no matter." Mother waved her hand. "I have acquired vouchers for you to attend Almack’s this week. I expect you to act appropriately."
"Yes, Mother," Beatrice said quietly.
"You must try to look happier. Be more cheerful. You look weak, no man is going to want to be shackled to you when you look like that."
Beatrice pursed her lips, refusing to answer angrily again. It was better to not address her mother's comments as they seemed to lead to more anger and insults. She was not up to an argument, anyway.
"I want you to wear your mint green dress." Mother set down seemingly calmed by Beatrice is subdued demeanor.
Beatrice remembered Lady Judith's comments at the party held by Lord and Lady Colchester. She had been wearing the very dress her mother had just suggested.
"I am wondering if my dresses are fashionable enough. Should we perhaps visit the modiste soon?"
"You are an ungrateful child!" Mother pointed her finger at her again and jumped to her feet. "We will visit the modiste when you have entered into a courtship."
Beatrice could not believe her mother’s reaction. "I was only trying to help my chances of procuring a husband. As you have said, I shall need all the assistance that I can gather."
"You are being purposely difficult and I will not listen to you when you are being so rude." Mother walked away closing the drawing room door behind her.
Beatrice let out a long sigh. Partially from relief that her mother had left her alone but also because she was being so awful. Mother was blaming Beatrice for not finding a husband. Everyone, including her mother, knew where the blame should lie. Right at the feet of Baron Taltham, Beatrice's father. There was little Beatrice could do but cry.
Chapter Eleven
"Excuse me, Lieutenant Repington," Fletcher asked. "Will you be staying in tonight?"
Charles looked up from the paperwork he had been reading. He had been in London for nearly a fortnight and every night the manservant had asked the same question, and each night Charles had told him that he would indeed be staying in.
"No," Charles answered, surprising even himself. "I believe I shall go to White's tonight."
"If I may, sir, it is Wednesday. I believe Almack’s will be in fine fashion."
"Yes, right you are. I had not thought of that." Charles nodded. “Thank you for the suggestion.”
He had been avoiding much of the events of the Season but it was time that he did something different. Most of his days had been spent in the house alone with Fletcher, save one day when he met with James at a club near Parliament.
The silence was beginning to distress him. He had far too much time to think, and memories of his time on the Peninsula were foremost on his mind. Everyone thought he had been on a great adventure but it had been quite the opposite. While Charles had learned much and had done great things, it was outweighed by the many awful experiences. Memories of the horrific death and destruction of war haunted his thoughts and dreams.
With a shake of his head, Charles pushed back from the desk. "I suppose I shall get ready."
Later that night, Charles found himself standing in the corner of Almack’s ballroom. As expected it was a rout, there were so many people in the ballroom it was nearly impossible to move about. Charles was glad of it though. Lady Amelia had stopped to say hello and he had seen the moment that Lady Judith had seen him from across the ballroom. The crowd in the ballroom afforded him a great amount of time to make his escape.
Charles nodded at Lady Agatha Radcliffe and Lady Matilda Watson both dowagers chaperoning their young nieces, as he moved slowly through the crowd. He looked back in an effort to see where Lady Judith had gone and when he turned around he ran headlong into a young lady with blonde hair who had also been glancing behind her. She let out a rather loud squeal as they collided and then stepped back quickly.
"Miss Beatrice, are you all right?" Charles exclaimed. "My apologies, I was not paying attention to where I was walking."
"Oh no, Lieutenant Repington, it was I that was not looking. Please forgive me."
He turned as she moved past him. "Please think nothing of it."
She gave him a weak smile and he wondered if she was all right. Then over her shoulder, he saw that Lady Judith had worked through the crowd much quicker than he had anticipated. He turned back to Beatrice praying that she would take mercy on him. "To show you I shared no ill will, please have this next dance with me."
Miss Beatrice glanced back the way she came before nodding. "Yes, thank you. I would like that."
Charles led her into the middle of the ballroom. They took their positions as the music started Charles looked up to see Mr Townsend and scowling at them. Cl
early, Miss Beatrice had been avoiding Mr Townsend's attention.
"It seems that we have a similar problem."
"Oh?" Miss Beatrice asked her blue eyes wide.
He smiled at her and could not help himself. "Yes, it seems we are both dealing with unwanted attention."
"Unwanted attention?" Miss Beatrice repeated, seemingly confused at first. "Oh, yes. Mr Townsend has been quite persistent."
"I do not doubt that. I recall his behaviour at the Colchester party."
"He means well, but I…" Miss Beatrice’s voice trailed off.
Charles steps nearly faltered as he watched emotions flit across her beautiful face. It was fear that had caused him to pause mid turn.
"Has he done anything untoward?"
Miss Beatrice shook her head quickly. "No, he has acted the gentleman. It is just that he is so very imperious. He expects me to do everything he asks regardless if I want to do so or not."
Charles looked over to where the other man stood. "That does not seem very gentlemanly at all."
"I see that Lady Judith's interest in you has not waned." Miss Beatrice looked up at him briefly "I hope her intentions have improved though."
The change in conversation almost caught him up but Charles simply smiled. "I do not want to seem ungracious but, yes, after you and Henrietta warned me I have done my best to stay far away from her."
Miss Beatrice nodded. "How are you enjoying London?"
Charles did not answer right away concentrating on the dance and enjoying having Miss Beatrice so close to him. "I have only been back a short time but I suppose I have little to complain about. And you, Miss Beatrice, how are you finding London?"
"London is wonderful but it can take me several days to get adjusted." Miss Beatrice paused as if thinking of her next words carefully. "I can imagine that you may experience the same feelings of unease after being gone so long. It must be difficult to adjust.”
"Yes," Charles agreed, appreciating that she understood his plight. Not a single person, including his family, had given a thought as to how he was doing being home. Certainly, he was immensely thankful to be back in England, but he still found it a difficult transition.
When the music changed Charles led Miss Beatrice back to the edge of the ballroom. They had barely stopped when Mr Townsend appeared at their side.
"Here you are, Miss Beatrice. I have brought you a refreshment," Mr Townsend said handing her cup of lemonade.
"Mr Townsend, thank you," Miss Beatrice said rather stiffly.
"Good evening, Townsend," Charles said by way of greeting.
Townsend nodded. "Repington."
"Miss Beatrice, good evening," Lady Judith said as she and Lady Sarah joined them.
Lady Sarah adding, "It is so good to see you here tonight."
"Good evening, thank you." Miss Beatrice smiled but to Charles, she looked rather uncomfortable.
Lady Judith quickly turned to him and said, "Good evening Lieutenant Repington. I am quite thrilled to see you here in London."
"Thank you." Charles reverted back to his standard answer. "It is rather nice to be back."
“You must be looking forward to attending so many of the parties and balls, now that you are back.”
Charles was deciding how to answer when Townsend suddenly asked, "Miss Beatrice, would you like to dance?"
"Oh," Miss Beatrice replied clearly wanting to decline his invitation. "I need a moment..."
"You have had a moment to rest and I brought you a refreshment," he said with a satisfied smile. "I wanted to make sure that you would be able to dance. It appears you have had respite enough."
“Oh,” she repeated clearly surprised by his response. Charles wanted to intervene on Miss Beatrice's behalf but was unsure how to do so. Lady Agatha and Lady Matilda were sitting nearby watching their small group. It was a well known fact that the two women were the biggest gossips in London.
After a slight pause, Miss Beatrice smiled weakly at Townsend. "Yes, thank you."
As Townsend led Miss Beatrice to the middle of the ballroom Charles found himself getting far more irritated than he had been in weeks.
Lady Judith seemed not to notice his irritation. "Lieutenant Repington, will you be attending the opera next week?"
Charles had no interest in discussing social events with Lady Judith. "I am unsure if I will be there. I have much business to attend to and I may not be in London for long."
"Not in London for long? Wherever are you going?" Lady Judith asked a look of astonishment on her face.
Charles had not meant to say the last part but realized that he was ready to tell her anything if it meant she would leave him alone. To further that he pulled a watch from his pocket and said, "I had not realized it was so late. I must be going."
"Leaving? Now?" Lady Judith said her voice panicked.
Charles nodded at her stiffly. "Good evening Lady Judith, Lady Sarah."
He turned on his heel and left the ballroom. He was still quite irritated, unsure if he was unhappier with Townsend for conniving to get Miss Beatrice to dance with him, Miss Beatrice for accepting his invitation or at Lady Judith’s utter selfishness. Standing outside of Almack’s, Charles decided that he needed a drink. Perhaps he would go to White's after all.
Chapter Twelve
"Good evening, sir."
Charles nodded curtly at the man that opened the door and walked into the club. He was still fuming about Townsend. During the walk to White's, Charles had realized that Miss Beatrice had had little choice when Townsend had asked her to dance. Surely Lady Agatha and Lady Matilda would have felt obligated to pass on the gossip if Miss Beatrice had refused Townsend's invitation. There was really no choice for her but to accept.
Townsend, though, knew what he was doing and had effectively forced Miss Beatrice to dance with him regardless of what she wanted. Charles had seen her level of discomfort and now regretted leaving when he did. Debating on whether he should go back to Almack’s, Charles paused. If he went back, the risk of running into Lady Judith would be quite high.
He was still debating when someone called his name.
"Repington!"
He turned to see a well-dressed man with blonde hair standing just inside White's cardroom. Charles stopped in the hall, momentarily disconcerted at seeing Captain Patrick Wainwright in London.
"Wainwright?" Charles exclaimed. "When did you arrive in London? I did not realize you had left your commission on the Peninsula."
"I have only been in London a week." Wainwright gestured toward an empty table. "Come have a drink with me. We can play some cards if you would like."
Charles hesitated, unsure if he was up for company. The thought of going back to the empty house alone made him want to scream. He realized he was tired of the solitude. Finally, Charles nodded. "Lead the way."
"How long have you been back?" Wainwright asked once they each had a glass of whiskey in front of them.
"I have been in London for nearly two weeks but returned from the Peninsula several weeks before that."
Wainwright seemed to think about that before asking, "How has it been?"
"I want to say that it has gone well, but it has not been so."
"It has been the same for me. I was so looking forward to coming back, and leaving all of that behind me." Wainwright shook his head in disbelief. "I lie down at night and I cannot sleep."
"I have been doing the same," Charles admitted. "I close my eyes and it is like I am back there. It is hard for me to admit it, but it is quite true."
"Yes, I know what you mean. I do not like to admit it, even to myself. But the truth is that some nights, I swear that I can still hear the cannons," Wainwright said staring down at his hands.
Charles took a long drink of his whiskey. "I have been drinking far more than I should be, just so I can sleep."
Wainwright nodded. "I have as well."
Charles drained his glass and set it down. The glass made a sharp, hollow sound as it hit th
e table.
"You seem quite angry. Is there something that has upset you?"
Charles had not intended to talk about his night at Almack’s but the whiskey seemed to have relaxed him a bit. He quickly told Wainwright about the interaction with Townsend and Miss Beatrice at Almack’s.
Wainwright listened to him and almost immediately said, "I am not surprised. Townsend was a schoolmate of mine. He was odd even back then, he was smaller than most of the other boys and he kept to himself mostly. Older boys can be rough with each other though."
Charles smiled wryly thinking about the trouble he and his brothers got into. "Yes, I have a few scars to attest to that."
"Well, Townsend was quite particular about his clothing. One night one of the boys thought it would be amusing to take all of Townsend's clothing outside and lay it all out in the snow."
"I think everyone dealt with behaviour like that."
Wainwright let out a chuckle. "Yes, with me someone filled my shoes with frogs."
"Always with the frogs." Charles laughed too. "What happened with Townsend?"
"The schoolmate who was thought to have stolen Townsend’s clothes was found the next day."
"Found?"
"Someone, had beaten the boy until he was bloody. We all knew it was Townsend but we had no proof. "
Charles remembered Townsend's insistence that Miss Beatrice dance with him and how at the previous party he had kept repeating that she had said that she wanted to rest.
"Do you think that he is dangerous?" Charles asked looking at Wainwright sharply.
Wainwright paused as he took a sip of his whiskey. "I think he could be if he was pushed."
"I worry about Miss Beatrice. If Townsend would react violently regarding his clothing I can only imagine his reaction if he felt he had been snubbed by Miss Beatrice."
Wainwright stared down into his glass. "It is unfortunate that he has set his attention upon Miss Beatrice. She has already dealt with enough. Although perhaps that is part of why he has focused on her."
A Hero Returns Page 4
